


The Haunting of Captain America

by celeste9



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canonical Character Death, Friendship, Gen, Ghosts, Remix, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 06:10:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1255768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's being haunted by the ghost of his best friend. The other Avengers find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Haunting of Captain America

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zekkass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zekkass/gifts).
  * Inspired by [All-American Afterlife](https://archiveofourown.org/works/543950) by [Zekkass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zekkass/pseuds/Zekkass). 



> Thank you to Zekkass for writing the wonderful original fic, which, just, everyone go read it now, and to my beta, who read this last minute despite not really being in Avengers fandom, you are the best. <3
> 
> Also using this to fill a square on my trope bingo card, au: supernatural.

Steve’s best friend was a ghost. It probably said something about him that this wasn’t even the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him.

“Here,” Bucky said, gesturing to a giant bag of potatoes. “I’d put it in your cart myself, but, well, you know.” He waved his hand through the bag, wiggling his fingers.

“I think these bags are meant to feed entire families, Bucky.”

“Right? So, perfect for your average super soldier. You might even want to get two.”

Steve sighed and hefted the potatoes (one bag) into his cart. “I should never have agreed to this.”

“Can’t really stop me, now, can you?” Bucky grinned. “Now, get moving because people are starting to stare.” He wove his way through the crowd of shoppers, saying, “It’s okay, he’s really not crazy, I promise! It only looks like he’s a grown man talking to his imaginary friend.”

Yeah, Steve really needed to work on that.

-

“Captain, I must speak to you,” Thor said, drawing Steve aside. His expression was focused and intent, his tone all business.

Steve frowned. “What is it?”

Thor glanced behind Steve, to the general vicinity of where Bucky was standing, but of course Thor couldn’t know that. There was only empty space where Bucky was, to everyone but Steve. “There is a spirit of the dead following you.”

Steve’s mouth dropped open but Bucky was laughing.

“Oh, right, should’ve mentioned that,” Bucky said, the way he was still laughing completely erasing the possibility for any actual remorse shining through.

“Thanks a lot,” Steve muttered. It felt strange to acknowledge Bucky in front of Thor after deliberately ignoring him whenever the other Avengers were around for so long.

Thor’s eyebrows had drawn together. “Captain?”

“It’s okay, Thor,” Steve said, clapping Thor on the shoulder. “It’s only Bucky.”

“You were aware of this? And you did not think it a problem?”

“He tried to banish me, sort of,” Bucky offered, unhelpfully. “He thought I was an evil spirit set on harming you. I tried to explain, but he’s not so good at listening.”

Steve stifled an urge to grin. “Thor, did you try to banish my best friend?”

If anything, Thor looked even more concerned. “I must advise against friendships with spirits, they are not to be--”

“Bucky was my best friend before he died and started haunting me.”

Thor blinked. “Indeed?”

“Yeah. It’s... kind of a long story.” And kind of a crummy one, too. Steve still looked at Bucky and remembered him falling, falling, and he thought he always would.

“Well, then.” Thor turned himself in the direction of where he clearly thought Bucky must be standing. He was only slightly off. “I apologize, friend Bucky. I was mistaken as to your intentions.”

Bucky waved a hand in the air. “It’s no problem. Apology accepted.”

“Bucky says not to worry about it,” Steve told Thor.

“You have my gratitude, Bucky.”

“Hey, does he, youknow, _know_ ghosts?” Bucky asked. “Because I’m not saying I want to join a ghost support group or anything, but I’ve never actually seen another one.”

And that was how Steve ended up spending an afternoon acting as an intermediary between a Norse god and a ghost. (For the record, still not the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him.)

-

Tony wanted Steve to move into Stark Tower. Or Avengers Tower, or whatever it was called these days. (A blight on the New York City skyline, that’s what Steve called it.) Bruce already had, but then, Bruce didn’t really have anywhere else to go. Not that Steve had much of anywhere either, but he had his tiny apartment in Brooklyn and that was something - it was _his._ Clint and Natasha had rooms, too, but Steve had the impression that they had various boltholes all over the city, and they were away on S.H.I.E.L.D. missions a lot of the time. Thor had a room as well, which he had accepted with enthusiasm, to stay in when he was, well, on the planet. (Because Steve led the sort of life where it was necessary to say things like that.)

But even if Steve insisted on his own space - his own space where he could talk to Bucky and no one would think it was weird - he did like to come over to the Tower sometimes and spend time with whoever was around. It was kind of nice to have people again, even if he wasn’t always sure what he thought of them, and even if they would never compare to Bucky or to the friends he had lost.

“So what’s this I hear about you being best pals with a ghost?” Tony asked, accosting Steve nearly as soon as he set foot inside. Steve suspected JARVIS of telling on him. “And here I thought _I_ was your best friend. I’m hurt, Steve, I’m really hurt.”

“You have definitely never thought that,” Steve said. “You thought I was lying when I said I’d consider living here.” Emphasis on ‘consider’.

“True,” Tony admitted. “Actually my first thought was mind control, but lying was definitely second.”

“Honestly,” Bucky said, “I was surprised both of you made it off the helicarrier alive.”

“Me, too,” Steve said.

“Hey, are you talking to him right now? Because that is so not fair. Really, what would your mother say?” Tony made a disapproving, tutting sound. “It’s so rude to hold conversations with your invisible friend while someone else is in the room.”

“Gee whiz, Tony, I sure am sorry,” Steve said, rolling his eyes.

Tony grinned. “I love it when you’re sassy, Cap.”

“Get a room already, you guys,” Bucky said, and Steve snorted.

“Is he snarky? Steve, do you have a snarky ghost best friend?” Tony’s eyes widened as if something had suddenly dawned on him. “Oh my God. Bucky Barnes. This is the best friend from before you were Cap, right? So he knows all the dirt on you.”

“All the dirt,” Bucky confirmed, though Tony couldn’t hear him. (Thank God.)

“I need to talk to this ghost so much it burns,” Tony said, and Steve had never been so glad before that he was the only one who could communicate with Bucky.

-

Steve walked into the big communal living room in the Tower to discover Clint and Natasha on the couch, Clint sprawled over half of it while Natasha was more precisely tucked into one corner. He came to an abrupt stop, feeling a slight chill as Bucky fell in too closely behind him.

“Steve, do we need to stage an intervention?” Clint asked.

“What?”

“If you can’t find anyone better to hang with than a ghost, frankly, I’m a bit worried.”

Steve stifled a groan. “Nothing’s sacred around here, is it?”

“What, you thought _Tony_ wouldn’t say anything? Please.”

“We knew before Stark anyway,” Natasha pointed out.

“Super spies,” Bucky said, as if Steve needed a reminder.

“Of course we did,” Clint said. “Well, at least he talks to you. I assume, anyway, since we’ve only got your word to go on. I guess you could do worse.”

“You could,” Natasha agreed. “The evidence is sitting right here.”

Clint mock-gasped at her, raising his hand to his heart. “Tasha, I know you couldn’t possibly be referring to me.”

Natasha patted him on the knee. “It’s okay, no one likes you for your brain, anyway. Wait, what is it they like you for, again?”

“My sparkling personality, wit, and charm?” Clint smirked. “Or maybe it’s just my ass.”

Bucky snorted. “Well, she’d know.”

Steve glanced at him. “About his ass?”

“I’ve seen some things.” Bucky’s meaning was all too clear.

“What? Really?”

Bucky nodded seriously. “Totally.”

“Huh. Can’t say I hadn’t wondered.” Not as much as Tony had, though. “Do I even want to know how you know this?”

“Said I didn’t follow you around _all_ the time, didn’t I?” Bucky’s grin had a touch of a leer to it.

“Okay, yuck. I don’t think I want to hear about your adventures in voyeurism, Bucky.” Steve wasn’t sure whether it would be better or worse than the secondhand accounts of Bucky’s escapades back in the day. Maybe worse.

“Uh, I might,” Clint interrupted, “because that sounds like something I want to get in on, but first?” He gestured between Steve and the ghost he couldn’t actually see. “That is completely disturbing. Stop. You look like you should be in a mental institution.”

“He fits right in, then,” Natasha said, and Steve might have thought she was even smiling.

-

“Hi, Steve,” Bruce said, meeting him in the kitchen as Steve was sticking a plate in the dishwasher. Bucky was sitting on the counter, which Steve had tried to tell him was still kind of disgusting even if he was a ghost, to absolutely no effect.

“Hey,” Steve said, waiting for the familiar refrain to start. Bruce was the only one who hadn’t said anything about Bucky yet, so it was only a matter of time.

But when Bruce simply started boiling water on the stove, Steve felt compelled to say, “Aren’t you gonna say something about my choice in companion?”

“No, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, I moonlight as a giant green rage monster. I’m really not in a position to be judging people’s life choices, you know?” Bruce got out some of his tea leaves. Steve thought Bruce’s tea mostly tasted like dirt, though he was too polite to say so. (Tony, on the other hand, wasn’t.)

“He makes a good point,” Bucky said.

Steve found himself wondering, though. Bruce was the same mask of mild-mannered calm he always was, but Steve knew that below the surface all of his reined-in emotions were simmering. Bruce had probably burned a lot of bridges over the years since his... accident, or whatever the right word would be. He might actually like to be haunted - if your best friend was a ghost, he would be a constant source of companionship and you could never accidentally smash him into a wall.

Bruce was staring into the space beyond Steve, like he could will himself to see Bucky if he only tried hard enough. (Steve declined to mention that Bucky was still on the counter.) “It’s fascinating, though, isn’t it? Do you think he’d mind if I took some readings?”

Steve looked over at Bucky, who shrugged, like it wasn’t anything to him.

But Steve knew better than that. He remembered finding Bucky strapped to that table like he wasn’t anything, like he wasn’t a man. Like he was nothing more than an experiment, something to be toyed with. All in the name of science.

Steve was never, ever going to let that happen again, no matter how different it was. It didn’t matter that it was Bruce, that he wouldn’t ever put Bucky intentionally at risk. It didn’t matter that Bucky was already dead.

It was never gonna happen.

“Bruce.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not letting you turn my best friend into a science experiment.”

“Oh.” Bruce peered at Steve through his glasses, then took them off to rub the lenses clean. “Yeah, I can see why you’d say that. Never mind then; it’s not like I’d ever be able to publish, anyway. Well, not unless I wanted to become an even bigger joke than I already am.”

Bucky was laughing, the wariness gone from his eyes. “Aw, Steve, you do love me! My hero.”

If Bucky had been flesh and blood, Steve would have shoved him. He wasn’t, though, and Steve’s hand would just go straight through. Straight through, like Bucky wasn’t even there, no matter that the echo of his laugh was still hanging in the air.

Bruce’s kettle started whistling and Steve only said, “Whatever, Bucky.” The moment, whatever it had been, was lost.

-

They were on Steve’s couch watching yet another zombie movie, as Bucky had apparently developed a fondness for them over the decades. Steve had hovered in front of the microwave popcorn in the pantry for far too long before bypassing it. He knew it was stupid but it made him feel vaguely guilty to eat in front of Bucky when Bucky could never eat anything again.

“Do you miss food?” Steve asked.

Bucky made a disapproving face at him for interrupting the zombie carnage on the screen, but he said, “Kind of, yeah. I get cravings sometimes. My senses aren’t really as good as they were though, you know? So it isn’t like standing outside the bakery when we were kids and getting a waft of it all every time the door opened, just _dying_ for a bite.”

“Okay,” Steve said, mostly because he didn’t know what he should say.

But Bucky continued without prompting. “I miss the sensation of it more than anything, I guess. The memory of what food was like. It’s like, I remember having a beer and sometimes I just _want_ one. But I miss sex more.”

Steve broke into a laugh. “I guess you would.”

Bucky made a motion like he wanted to pat Steve on the knee, giving off nothing but a sensation of cold. “So you’ll just have to have enough sex for the both of us, big guy.”

“I’ll do that,” Steve said, his smile feeling forced. He had missed Bucky more than anything but sometimes he wondered if this was worse, this way of having him but not really, watching Bucky exist only on the fringes so that he barely existed at all. He didn’t know how Bucky could do it, how he could smile and laugh and never let on that this wasn’t exactly where he wanted to be.

“We’ll maybe have to discuss boundaries later,” Bucky said, and Steve felt his smile stretch into something that was more real.

It was Bucky, and he was here.

**_End_ **


End file.
